


When We Get Back

by Jamie552



Category: Armageddon (1998)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamie552/pseuds/Jamie552
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte "Charlie" Scofield has been an adopted member of the Stamper family since she was sixteen years old. When Harry's crew is gathered together and asked to attempt the impossible, she gets swept up in a world she never thought she'd be part of, with people she never thought she'd meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Get Back

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Armageddon or any of the characters from the movie, however, I do own Charlie. Just playing in the sandbox. 
> 
> This is my first time writing for this fandom, so I hope the characters are in-character haha I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

There was definitely something to be said about the sunrises and sunsets in the South China Sea.

It was always one _hell_ of a sight.

As she stared out over the railing, the cool ocean mist blowing across her face, she took in the colors of the early morning. Bright oranges, yellows, and reds…stretching as far as the eye could see. It was peaceful and she relished the near-complete silence, broken only by the occasional crashing of the waves against the platform’s flow lines down below.

It was the calm before the storm.

Looking down at her black digital dive watch—which she didn’t really need since she didn’t dive anymore but kept anyway—she could see that it wouldn’t be long until the rest of the crew woke up. The rag-tag collection of men from all different walks of life, swarming the decks and clamoring up and down the metal stairs…shouting at each other and making inappropriate jokes that she couldn’t help but laugh at. It was her routine, _their_ routine, and it was one that she loved.

She was always one of the first ones awake, the big boss man being the only one who occasionally rose before she did, but it was a rare luxury to have time to herself while they were on the rig. The regular crew for that particular Stamper Oil rig was a family in all the ways that mattered but that didn’t change the fact that the quarters were cramped, space was limited, and being one of two women on board had its challenges.

But if there was one thing Charlotte Scofield had gotten _very_ good at over the years, it was rising to those challenges.

She’d been an adopted member of the Stamper family for going on ten years, having met Harry and Grace just a few days before her sixteenth birthday. Her father, who had been an old high school friend of Harry’s back in the day, had died after a long and drawn out battle with colon cancer. Unbeknownst to Charlotte and Harry, he’d stated in his will that he wanted custody of his only daughter to be passed on to a rugged oil driller from Texas; someone he knew well and trusted would keep her out of trouble. Andrew Scofield’s reasons were a mystery to all of them at the time but Harry had accepted almost immediately, barely even batting an eye when the resentful and angry teenager had been dumped on his doorstep with a ratty old duffel bag and a bad attitude.

Her relationship with her father before his death had been a turbulent one. Her mother had gone out to buy milk one day and had never come back, leaving the two of them alone in a small two-bedroom shack on the outskirts of Baltimore. Anger and feelings of abandonment had consumed both of them, and seeing as how her father was an ex-military man who had absolutely no idea how to relate to a young daughter, they’d ended up living separate lives even though they were both living in the same house.

It’d taken less than a week after arriving in Texas for her to break down in Harry’s arms and less than three years after that for her to attend the University of Houston, eventually graduating with a degree in Geology and a minor in Geophysics.

She’d wanted nothing more than to join his crew and despite his insistence that she go on to something more _worthy_ of her—like _teaching_ , for instance—he’d relented, officially hiring her only a couple of days after graduation.

She had worked hard over the first couple of years to gain the trust and respect of the men on Harry’s crew. They were all experienced and tough, almost each and every one of them brilliant in their own right. Many had doctorates (even _double_ doctorates), degrees in the sciences, business, and finance; they were astoundingly intelligent even though they had dirt and oil caked under their nails and the smell of metal in their clothes. As soon as she had been able to prove to them that she could do the job and dish out the witticisms as well as they could, she was in—part of the team, part of the family.

And she’d lived that life for those ten years, having just celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday in their company.

It was then that she heard a heavy pair of feet clanging against the metal grating and she sent a smile to her new companion. “You’re up early.”

“Not as early as you,” The boss man himself let out a breath, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck gently in greeting before resting his arms on the railing. “Anything goin’ on?”

She nodded out towards the horizon. “Just that boat coming in. Greenpeace again, I think.”

He squinted in the sunlight and shook his head, “Make the rounds, let’s get these guys movin’. It’s gonna be a long day.”

Charlotte pushed herself from the railing and headed towards the nearest set of stairs, taking them two at a time in her heavy steel-toes. The living quarters, for the most part, were all isolated in one part of the structure and she made her way from room to room quickly, banging on doors and shouting out greetings to those that were already awake.

The door of the last room on the right burst open and a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Oscar appeared in the frame, pulling on a well-worn set of work gloves. She couldn’t help but smile at him. “Good morning, Oscar.”

He sent her a thousand-watt smile. “You see the sunrise this morning?”

“I never miss it.”

His smile only got bigger.

“Where’s AJ?”

He shrugged a shoulder, “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him yet.”

Before she could head in the direction of AJ’s room, a tired and disheveled looking Chick appeared beside her, yawning and rubbing his stubbled face. “Good morning, Charlie. Coffee?”

She nodded, “Yeah, in the main break room. We’re outta cream, though.”

“Don’t care.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek, saying, “I’d chew on the grounds if I had to, “ before turning and walking away.

Another ritual, equivalent to a family conversation around the breakfast table.

Once everyone was awake and had their two or three cups of coffee, it took less than forty-five minutes to get the core machinery up and running.

One of the things that made them such a successful crew was the fact that each and every person on the rig had a specific job, or a specific set of responsibilities…and each person carried those things out without needing instruction or hand-holding.

The sounds of the rig waking up were familiar.

There was one _particular_ sound, however, that stood out to her as she sat at her desk rifling through piles of paperwork.

_Shotgun fire._

When the first shot rang out just a few minutes before nine o’clock, Charlotte had to sit there for a moment, _sure_ that she had misheard or imagined it.

When the _second_ shot rang out, accompanied by the somewhat hysterical sound of Grace screaming, she shot up from her chair an ran out to the railing outside her office door, using her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunshine as she scanned the metal catwalks below.

It took less than a second for her to spot a very determined looking Harry walking amongst the equipment with a shotgun held firmly in his hands and Chick walking beside him, ever the voice of reason.

Then Grace appeared on one of the upper catwalks, wearing what appeared to be nothing but a large green jacket—obviously AJ’s.

_Wait…_

_AJ?_

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

"Harry! Put the gun down, you’re acting insane!”

“Now honey, go get some clothes on and get outta the way—“

“You can’t control my life!”

The rest of the conversation was drowned out when Charlotte took off running, pulling her long honey-colored hair back into a ponytail as she went. She dodged passed a large vent that was expelling warm steam and hopped over yet another railing, eventually ending up standing beside Chick and Rockhound; who were both watching the ensuing chaos with a mixed look of humor and panic on their faces.

AJ’s voice rang out, drawing her eyes up again. “Harry, stop! It was funny for a minute, it’s not funny anymore!”

She jumped when the next shot rang out, the sound echoing loudly in her ears.

As Harry cocked the gun again, Rockhound held a hand out in an effort to placate. “Harry, this is illegal, man.”

And without missing a beat, Harry said, “I’m temporarily insane, Rock, it’s alright.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but stand still as Harry moved away, following the sounds of AJ’s frantic screaming. Chick moved with him, always just a few steps behind.

Rockhound stayed by her side, and as if to show how flustered he was, his ill-fitting hard hat slid down over his eyes. He quickly pushed it back up. “This is why I never had kids.”

With a large wrench resting on his shoulder, Bear appeared between them and snorted. “Yeah, _that’s_ the reason.”

Rockhound shot the larger man a mildly dirty look and motioned over his shoulder, “I’m gonna head up to the nest. Keep an eye out for the clients.”

She nodded, watching him leave. “Thanks, Rock.” Bear moved up to stand right beside her, resting his free hand on his belt. “Bear, what’s goin’ on around here?”

The big man shrugged, “Hormones.”

She sent him a nervous smile and after patting his large shoulder in affection, Charlotte took off again—finding the gun-wielding maniac just in time to hear the final shot ricochet off a large metal pipe. He’d finally found his mark, if the tiny bloody hole in AJ’s left leg was anything to go by.

Grace shoved her way through the small group of curious on-lookers and went right to AJ’s side, glaring at her father as he said, “Bullet never even got close, it was just a ricochet.”

The distant sound of rotors made Charlie sigh and it was made worse when Rockhound suddenly yelled down at them, “Hey, pucker up!” The yellow and white chopper soared overhead, obviously heading towards the helipad at the far side of the rig. “We got clients incoming!”

Letting out a commanding breath, Charlotte stepped forward and looked to Grace. “I’ll take care of his leg, I have a med-kit in my office. _Please_ go and get dressed, you’re the only one here who speaks Chinese.”

Sending one last hellish glare to her father, Grace kissed AJ on the cheek and stormed off, pulling the jacket tighter around herself as she went. Charlotte then looked to Harry. “And you, _Capone_ , let’s not scare the nice people, ok? Can you put that gun away?”

A wave of tension left her when Harry finally lowered the gun. The usually un-flappable Chick obviously felt the same way because he placed a hand on his old friend’s shoulder, blowing out a large puff of air.

_Crisis semi-averted._

As gently as possible, she grabbed hold of AJ’s right arm and pulled him along with her, nodding in the direction of her office. “Come on, AJ, blood isn’t a good look.”

He hopped along beside her and the moment they were out of Harry’s earshot AJ nearly growled, leaning most of his weight on her. “Friggin’ insane.”

Charlotte shook her head at him, pulling open her office door and all but pushing him inside. “Well what did you expect?” She helped him sit down in the closest chair and moved towards a set of cupboards, pulling the one on the far left open. The rarely-used first-aid kid sat on the upper shelf and she resisted the urge to blow the dust off of it when she pulled it down. “It’s Gracie. How did you think he would react?”

“I was supposed to expect a shotgun?”

“When it comes to Harry, expect _everything_.” She knelt down in front of him and opened the kit, setting it down carefully on the floor beside her. “He _is_ a father, after all.”

AJ shook his head, letting out a loud hiss when she pressed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against his leg. “The guy is a maniac, Charlie.”

“AJ, you just don’t _think_. You know what he’s like, he’s unstable on a good day. You should’ve sat him down and told him months ago.”

“Grace didn’t want to, she said he’d freak out.” He motioned somewhat flamboyantly to his wound. “Guess she was right.”

“He might’ve reacted differently if you’d talked to him, man to man.”

He snorted.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “And you know I love you, but come on, your history with women hasn’t been all that inspiring over the last couple years. When was the last time you were in a meaningful relationship?”

“I’ve had plenty of meaningful relationships!”

“Sharing the worm from a tequila bottle is _not_ meaningful!” She pulled the cotton ball from his leg quickly, making him hiss again.

As she rummaged through the kit looking for a band-aid, AJ said, “You’re one to talk. When was the last time _you_ went on a date?”

“The stupidity of this morning has nothing to do with me, it’s all _you_.” She felt her face heating up slightly and he must’ve noticed she was uncomfortable because his face softened slightly. Choosing to ignore his change in demeanor, she swallowed hard and said, “And anyway, I’ve got too much going on.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Well, _that_ , and who the hell am I gonna date out here?”

“Rockhound thinks you’re cute.”

She didn’t even hesitate before flicking at his leg, earning yet another hiss and a very loud, “ _Ouch!”_

* * *

 

The rumbling in the floor was a sure sign of trouble and Charlotte made her way quickly to the control panel on the main level, throwing on her hardhat and squeezing in beside Harry, who was shouting directions at every man within earshot. “Send another pipe on down! Right now! Another full pipe!”

One of the men threw Harry his own hardhat and as he put he on, he looked at her and said, “It’s a gas pocket.”

Trying to force down the feeling of panic that was rising in her chest, she tried to focus on the gauges, ignoring the sounds of the guys yelling and the number two drill shrieking close by.

Not even realizing that AJ had followed her onto the platform, she wasn’t expecting it when he suddenly yelled, “I told you! Am I lucky or am I just a genius?”

Harry yelled back, “I shut it down for a reason, you jackass! The relief valve’s fried open!”

The thick smell of oil filled the air as Bear’s voice rang out, “Shut off the number two valve!”

The gauges were spiking off their meters and when the loud warning alarm started going off, nearly bursting her ear-drums, it took only seconds for the enormous geyser of thick black sludge to force its way up the pipe and shoot skyward, raining down a heavy layer of black tar on everyone close enough.

Someone, she didn’t know who, grabbed her arm in a tight grip and pulled her away from the panel, all but throwing her down one of the emergency slides.

When she made it to the bottom she started to slide across the oil-slicked floor, her boots struggling to find a grip. Oscar appeared beside her—clothing, skin, hair…every inch of him covered in oil—and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and then tight against his chest as they took shelter under the nearest ledge.

Large metal pipes were literally _raining_ down on them, clanking loudly as they hit the concrete and metal floor.

There was a sudden blast of heat as the bulk of the gas escaped through the geyser and the last thing she saw before closing her eyes was the image of Harry and AJ taking a running leap from the level above, their arms flailing.

The relentless flow of sound gradually faded away and it was only when she heard Harry yell, “Everybody all right?!” that she opened her eyes again.

The cheering, hooting, and hollering started up only moments after that – _we struck oil, baby!_ – and Oscar slowly relaxed his hold on her, looking down at her and unable to hold in a smile. “You ok?”

She nodded against him, running a hand through her oil-soaked hair.

The clients who had arrived earlier that morning were laughing almost hysterically, following Grace like little fledglings as she led them through the chaos—over the fallen pipes and around the flames, which members of the crew were still battling with large hoses. They were giving thumbs up to Harry, who was leaning against a metal valve and looking completely exhausted.

Still a little dazed, but able to hear the approaching rotors in the distance, Charlotte pulled herself away from Oscar—sending him a silent _thank you_ —and made her way to the railing.

The approaching black hawk helicopter stood out amongst the clouds and she felt herself frowning, wondering just what in the hell they had to deal with next.

Glancing over her shoulder to where Harry was still standing with AJ, it was obvious that he too had seen the approaching chopper. He spoke a few quiet words to AJ before turning away and making his way down the nearest set of stairs, shedding his now ruined outer shirt as he went. A small group followed in his wake and Charlotte was among them, finding a space in between Chick and Bear on the outer edge of the helipad.

“Who’s Harry Stamper!?”

And the last thing she heard before both Stampers were loaded into the chopper was Harry yelling at Chick to get the crew paid and off the rig.

  **END**


End file.
